Raubtier und Zdabyča
by venomoxide
Summary: During WWII the Soviets have created a group of assassins to infiltrate the Reich and ensnared within it is a young girl, Natalya, who will be thrown right into the enenimes hands.  Historical Accuracy, Gore, Language. PrusBel
1. Prelude

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**So, this is set in the time period of WWII. The characters are obviously not nations, they are simply people living in the time period. They can die as normal humans can and have lived normal lives. If you have any questions, feel free to ask. Although, they probably will be answered in chapters still to come.  
Warnings - Language, Dark Content and Gore. Rating will change with further chapters.**

Prelude : music that precedes a fugue or introduces an act in an opera.

**

* * *

**

It was a cold night on January, 1933. Natalya could remember it well, only because she sat in a poorly made room with walls as thin as paper and the seat was made of metal. The walls were blank, white, emotionless. And as her brother walked into the room, she thought she might feel a swell of hope. A moment of happiness. But he looked the same. His violet hues were emotionless and cold – just like the temperature surrounding her.

"Pryvet," he greeted her, not bothering to indicate that he knew her at all. She knew it was because his superior had walked in directly after him, standing behind him a scorpion in the shadows, ready to strike at the first moment of weakness. "Your training commences today. As an official member, you must sign this..." he paused to take out a paper, filled with the necessities of her contract and the repercussions were she to fail, and set it down in front of her on the table. "And know that under no circumstances will you be spared if you fail your duties."

The Belorussian felt her breath catch in her throat as her facade of ease threatened to fall. When did he stop caring about family? She missed the days that Ivan was still Ivan. That he would treat both her and Yekaterina with love. But she pushed these thoughts aside and nodded, picking up the pen beside her and slowly signing her name on the bottom.  
Once this was done, her brother smiled. It wasn't comforting, as she desperately wished it to be. It was malicious. Silently, as she stood and nodded as she took her leave, she prayed it wasn't an omen for the years to come.

* * *

Drawing her knees to her chest, Natalya shivered. Despite the fact that she was no longer in the freezing room she had been in three weeks ago, the chill had not left her. It seemed strange, considering that she was safely sitting on her bed, surrounded by numerous amounts of... things. Just things. From the ornate wardrobe to her meaningless Faberge eggs. They all seemed so pointless now that she would be leaving them. For how long? She wouldn't know. She barely knew if she would come back.

Slipping off her bed, she smoothed down her skirt, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. As she left, she caught her reflection in the mirror. She looked composed on the outside – a perfect 'German.' One more month to rid herself of her 'Soviet' accent. One more month to learn fluent German. She had no worries that she could do it. No worries that she would worm her way into the Reich and settle in nicely. What she worried for... was if she could keep it up for as long as she needed.

Not only had she been appointed to be an assassin but a spy as well. Gather information, play the role and when the time came – kill. But the time wouldn't come overnight. It would take months, possibly years. She would have to wait for the Soviet army to invade.  
Her brother, Ivan, was a high ranking officer in the Soviet army. But he also led the secret service – an elite team of spies and assassins that all shared the same purpose. To infiltrate the Reich from the inside and watch it crumble as they killed those who had wronged them. The only way they gained loyalty was through fear. Mess up and you will be killed. Simple, easy, with no hidden lines.  
As she wandered down the hall, she found herself outside of her brothers' room, eyebrows furrowed in a frown. Ivan... He was silent now, stony and distant. But every now and then, when they had rare moments alone, he would be the Ivan she knew. The Ivan she grew up with as her older brother.

Raising a hand, she knocked tentatively on the door, her heartbeat racing in her chest. Why was she terrified? It was only her brother. It was only Ivan. But yet, at the same time, it was exactly that reason that set her heart into frenzied palpitations. It was exactly that reason that as she opened the door, her hands were shaking.

Ivan was seated at his desk, bent over a stack of papers. His expression was blank, emotionless. "Bhrat..." She greeted him quietly, voice barely above a whisper. She took a few steps into the room, hands clasped in front of her as she stared at the floor. "I came to visit you." It seemed obvious, to be telling him that she was visiting, but in reality, she wasn't sure if he knew. He might simply think she was coming to give him news.

The Russian male lifted his gaze, violet eyes blank. "Very good." He replied, tone as distant as she felt from him. Unable to take it any longer, she rushed forward, around the side of his desk and flung her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. "Please... Give me one sign that you are still my brother!" She demanded, tears brimming in her eyes. Fingers clutched around the fabric of his military jacket, attempting to shake sense into him. "I cannot leave if you act like this!"  
She chanced a glance upwards, now on her knees, staring up at the man with pleading eyes. She did not care who he was to every member of the Soviet army. She only cared that he was her older brother and she needed him to act like one.

For a moment, she thought he was going to push her away. Or perhaps, strike her for being so immature. But instead, he gave her a tired smile and gently pulled her hands away, iron grip breaking her hold easily. "You should go practice your German," he whispered, gently laying her hands in her lap and straightening up to resume staring at his work. In a way, she wished he would have hit her. At least then, she would have known she was alive.

* * *

A long way from Moscow, in a well furnished office, sat Gilbert Beilschmidt. As he reclined in his seat, barely listening to the other SS officers talking amongst themselves, he lit up a smoke, impartial to the large sign that forbade him from doing so. Besides, how could one stop him from doing it? He was invincible, right? With a cocky smirk, he took a long drag of the cigarette, letting his eyes close in satisfaction. Nothing could stop the Reich. Not the United Kingdom, not France... Even Russia would cower at the might of the Fatherland.

At least, that was what der Fuhrer said. And what he said, went. Gilbert admired that man. It wasn't for his looks or even his mastered skill of architecture. It was his stage presence. That guy could rile up a crowd in ten seconds flat, no questions asked.


	2. Legato

**Legato : used when successive tones are to be produced in a closely connected, smoothly gliding manner.**

After that visit with Ivan, Natalya didn't bother to go again. Instead, she buried herself in the language of German and paced around her room, talking to herself. She had to perfect the accent. Without this crucial component, the whole mission would be pointless.

Three weeks before she was about to leave for Germany, the pale-haired girl was sitting at her desk, studying the papers before her. They held fake information... The girl in the picture on her ID papers was her, the same as always. But beside her, the name was not written: Natalya Arlovskaya. Instead, in bold typewriter ink was 'Giselle Hans.' As much as she liked the name, she wasn't this girl. She hadn't been born and raised in Berlin. She did not have two sisters who lived in Austria. Nor was she of 'pure German descent.'

But that was who she had to become. While she lived in Germany, that was exactly who she was. Giselle Hans. Secretary to some German official. But, she considered herself lucky. She had been given a job that was coveted by many women she knew. Many women who were much more professional compared to her. To be so close to the man who was hated in the eyes of everyone she knew... Of course, she wasn't going to be the secretary to Adolf Hitler himself. But it was close enough in her eyes. Gilbert Beilschmidt, his name was. Both his brother and him were in 'der Fuhrer's' inner circle of friends.

Rubbing her temples, she closed her eyes, shaking her head with a long sigh. It seemed ridiculous to think that such a man could have friends... That he could enjoy himself with day trips to look at architecture while millions of people suffered because of him. With a disgusted tingle dancing up her spine, she shook the thought from her head and resumed studying her papers. After all, it wouldn't do to forget her name when she arrived in Berlin.

* * *

Straightening his tie, Gilbert walked down the hall, headed towards his brothers' office. Despite the fact he had a few papers of his own to sign, the albino male was not in the mood to sit down and be quiet. Unfortunately, he was in the mood to bother. And whenever he felt in the mood to bother, he made it a point to go to 'Herr Beilschmidt's' office. After all, the other officers wouldn't tolerate him bursting in and sitting on their desk anyway.

Opening the door without knocking, he sauntered in, letting the large door swing close behind him. "Guten tag, bruder!" He greeted the male, grinning lopsidedly as he flopped down in the chair opposite the others desk. When all he received was a curt nod, he rolled his eyes and crossed his legs lazily with a dramatic sigh. Sometimes Ludwig could be such a spoil sport!

After a good few minutes of Gilbert staring straight at the other male, Ludwig finally set aside whatever he was doing with a strenuous sigh and lifted his ice blue eyes to meet with Gilbert's crimson ones. "What do you want?" He replied, not sounding impressed in the slightest bit. Obviously he was getting a little tired of the whole 'Gilbert interrupting his daily routine of work' thing.

"Oh, nothing. I'm done all my work," he lied, not even blinking twice, as if this might incline the other German to go out for beers with him. He knew it would be the opposite, however. Ludwig couldn't stand it if someone finished a set amount of work before him, no matter if he knew they were lying or not.

"Really? Hm," Ludwig replied, looking honestly amused for the first time since they started talking. "Well, then I actually have a job for you. We have a new secretary coming in. Or, rather, we have a group of ladies who will be applying. I was going to make the trip out to meet them but seeing as you are done..." The blonde let the sentence speak for itself as he settled back in his chair, a smug look on his face for once.

Silent for a moment, Gilbert rolled his eyes yet again, resisting the urge to pout. "Honestly? You know I hate these types of things... It makes me feel like a common worker! I should be doing something... official," he argued, knowing it would be alright for him to vent his frustrations on the other Beilschmidt. If he responded this way to any other superior's orders, he would have been demoted and possibly shot on the spot.

"Ja, I know you don't like them. But I'm busy, Gilbert. You are free. Go drive out to the base and wait until nightfall. You will greet them along with Albrecht. After that, drive them back here. It's imperative that no one see them arrive," Ludwig stood as he gave the directions, running a hand through the perfectly sculpted hair on his head. The tone in his voice suggested that he was done arguing and for Gilbert to leave as soon as possible.

With a slightly annoyed sigh, Gilbert stood as well and nodded, raising his arm in the air as he said an unenthusiastic 'Seig Heil.' Sometimes he hated his brother for being so efficient.

* * *

The few weeks she had left has passed quicker than she anticipated and as she sat, dressed in her best skirt and dress top, she ignored the fact that her palms were sweating. Glancing out the train window, she forced herself to forget the expression on Yekaterina's face and how much she had cried. It wouldn't do to focus on the past. Now, she was Giselle Hans. Closing her eyes, she laid her head against the back of the seat, falling asleep easily.

The only thing that woke her was the loud blaring whistle of the train, alerting her that she had arrived in Berlin. According to the Nazi officer she would be meeting, she had been travelling for a visit to Vienna and had just arrived today. If they had had the time, they would have arranged a house and had her live there for a few weeks. But unfortunately the time had been changed to meet for two weeks earlier than they thought.

And so, here she was, stepping off of the train with a forced expression of ease. She could tell the majority of people around her were Germans. Or, at least, they were supporters of the Reich – whether they wanted to be or not. To be stepping off a train that was stopping in Berlin, the heart of Nazi Germany, would be suicide waiting to happen. As she scanned the platform, there was a Nazi soldier standing at every possible post and she realized that she was doing something a sane person would never dream of.

The walk was short and thankfully she wasn't asked any questions. She attributed it to her blonde hair and violet-blue eyes. Waiting in front of the ticket station, she licked her lips, wondering when her throat felt so dry. Taking a few deep breaths, she felt her muscles tense as a car far too nice to belong to a civilian slowly pulled up beside her. The window was rolled down and she stepped forward apprehensively, carting her luggage with her.

"Giselle Hans?" A gruff looking soldier barked out from the seat closest to her, eying her suspiciously. She nodded, already pulling out her ID papers and holding them out to the man. He blinked before taking them, his expression never changing. Even if she was a woman, it didn't change the fact that she could be a potential enemy. As he read them over, she tried not to fidget. But Ivan had promised her that the German officials had already checked her through and through – as much as they humanly could find out about her, they did. She wouldn't be standing here, waiting to be taken for an interview if they hadn't. It was all just for show.

Handing the papers back to her, he gestured with a curt nod that she should get in the back. Stepping aside as he opened his door, she said a quiet thank you as he took her bags and threw them in the back. As quickly as she could, she got in the back, folding her hands in her lap with a small sigh of relief.

Soon enough, they were driving, slowly making their way through the streets of Berlin as night began to fall upon the city. She chanced a look out the window, feeling her stomach fill with nerves at the sights that greeted her. Everywhere she looked, the red and white flag stared back at her. It was as if the harsh hues of the Nazi symbol knew she was an imposter and was silently screaming for one of the hundred soldiers to notice and eliminate her immediately.  
But so far, the two soldiers in the front of the car had not said a word to her. She assumed they had been instructed not to speak to her for some absurd reason. Of course, she didn't mind. As she settled back in the comfortable seat, she closed her eyes and tried to calm her mind. She could tell this car ride was going to be very long...


	3. Andante

**Andante : Moving moderately slow, but distinct and flowing; quicker than larghetto, and slower than allegretto.**

Leaning against the side of the car, Gilbert glanced around the dark street for a moment before growing tired of studying the practically black surroundings. Digging around in his pocket for a moment, he found a lighter and a cigarette. The click of the flame being ignited seemed too loud in the quiet he was standing in. If someone had been watching, all they would have seen was the briefest flicker of light, illuminating the German's face, along with the hint of the golden eagle perched on his SS hat.

He had almost finished the smoke as a car identical to the one he was resting against pulled up beside him, followed by four more. Dropping the cigarette to the ground, he snuffed it out with his boot, the slightest smirk gracing his features as he watched the five ladies step out of their cars. The majority of them looked incredibly nervous, as if they hadn't expected it would be this complicated of a journey. Well, he hated to break it to them, but they were applying for various positions in the most feared governments in Europe. It wasn't like they could waltz these girls in broad daylight.

"Guten tag, Frauleins," he greeted them, waving them over with a gloved hand. "Now, it may be a bit squished for driving but I'm sure you will all manage." With a slight raise of his eyebrows, he opened the door to his own car, holding it open for a moment before he went to help round up their luggage; the ladies in one car, their annoyingly large amount of luggage in the other.

* * *

As Natasha stepped out of the car, she felt two emotions. One was relief, to be rid of the two emotionless officers in front of her. The second was apprehension. It seemed like so much security was placed on the whole operation that it made her wonder if she had made the right decision. The car she had gotten out of had just driven past two gates, guarded by men with guns at their sides. The picture in her mind still seemed daunting. Wrapping her arms around herself, she shivered slightly, trying to ignore the small bite of cold that came with the time of night. Her eyes snapped to the male who started speaking, feeling her eyebrows furrow prematurely. She couldn't entirely make out what he looked like, having her vision impaired by the shadows that attempted to shield his identity. But from she could see, he had a defined jaw line and his mouth was turned up in a smirk. Her eyes widened the tiniest bit as the light caught his eyes, crimson shining bright for a moment before the light lost and his eyes were covered once more.

As she was gently ushered forward, Natasha swallowed thickly. Red eyes? Surely she had seen wrong. Of course, she had heard of albinism but she had never dreamed she might encounter someone with those traits in her lifetime. Soon, she was settled in beside five other women. Glancing around, she gave them all a polite smile, just to break the tension that settled around them.

It was obvious to her that they were not in her position. They all had glimmers of excitement in their eyes, indicating that they were afraid. But they were not afraid the way she was. They thought this experience was going to be thrilling. The most exciting moments of their young lives. It made her sick. How could they want a voluntary part of something so twisted?

"Hallo," a girl about Natasha's age interrupted her thoughts, just as the car began to move. "Aren't you excited? I'm from Munich... I hear der Fuhrer has a liking for girls from Munich. Of course, I'm not applying to be der Fuhrer's assistant, but it might carry on, yes?"

Natasha studied her with ice cold blue eyes before she nodded, forcing a small smile. "Ja, I hear the same. Hopefully it will go well." It was an attempt to end the conversation. Her German had been flawless, of course, but she couldn't shake the feeling that speaking to another would cause the whole operation to snap, like a thin string holding up the pressing weight of an anvil.

Thankfully, the girl noticed her resignation to have a conversation and settled back in her seat with a dejected expression. It didn't take long for her to turn to the other lady beside her and begin a whispered conversation.

* * *

The ride was easier than the first one, at least. After a few minutes of driving, she felt her muscles relax and she allowed herself to fall into the role she was to play. And soon, before she knew it, the car was pulling to a slow stop in front of a building that obviously was dedicated to the government. Filing out one by one, each of the ladies blinked up at the darkened red flag that waved gently in the chilled breeze. It seemed like an omen, warning them that if they were to step into the building, they would not be able to step out without reason.

Apparently, their choice had been made already as a few of the officers ushered them up the stairs, seeming just as stiff and official as they had the whole night. Glancing over as a hand wrapped gently around her arm, Natasha's gaze trailed up to observe the officers face. She felt her stomach drop as those red eyes came into view. They were illuminated now by the lamps on the front of the building, clear as day and staring straight ahead – at least, until they flickered toward her, as if he felt her gaze.

There was a silent moment where they simply stared at each other and Natasha almost swore she felt her heart threaten to beat out of her chest. Did he know? From one glance, could he tell she was not German? These thoughts vanished, however, when the corner of his lips curved in a small smirk and he broke the gaze, continuing to lead her through the large doors.

As soon as they reached the inner hallway, their footsteps ceased to echo against the marble floors and the officer let go of her arm, making his way to the front. "Each of you will wait in that room," he paused to indicate the room to his left, his eyes scanning each of the girls' faces. "And then when you are called, you will follow the officer speaking to you and proceed with your interview."

The group began to move to the room and Natasha moved to follow. Before she took three steps, a hand was on her shoulder, holding her back. "You are first, fraulein." Turning slightly, she saw the unnerving officer yet again and glanced down to the floor, not in the mental state to stare at those eyes any more. She simply nodded and followed him, taking one longing glance back at the doorway out. Would she ever be able to walk out those doors again? Only time would tell.


	4. Zitternd

**Zitternd : the act of playing a note with a trembling effect.  
**

When she entered the room, she was surprised to find one officer already waiting for her. He was muscular, with a well defined jaw and a classic look. With just one glance, she knew he was German. Resisting the urge to turn around and walk out, Natasha sat down, nodding in thanks to the albino male. After a few moments, the albino went to stand beside the blonde and she realized they were both interviewing her. She forced a wide smile, smoothing down her dress in a calm manner.

"Hallo fraulein Hans," the blonde one greeted her, barely smiling as he did so. Barely a minute in the same room with these two males and she could already see the stark contrast they had to each other. The blonde was stern and uptight; professional. The other, however, was laid back and obnoxious. The grin on his face was an obvious indicator that he was not nearly as concerned about appearing put together.

"Hallo," she replied, again, keeping her charming smile plastered to her lips. It almost hurt to smile so much; considering she didn't do it often. Her eyes shifted between the two, keeping eye contact. Somehow, she had eased into the role. That didn't mean her heart had ceased its erratic beating, like hummingbirds wings.

"My name is Ludwig Beilschmidt. This," he paused to gesture to the male leaning against the wall behind him, "is my bruder Gilbert. You may call us Herr Beilschmidt if you have any questions. Now, we just have a few questions and then we will ask you to demonstrate your skills, please."

Now that she knew their names, she felt somewhat safer, as if they were more human to her. But, yet, she couldn't shake the feeling that one wrong move or word would send her whole world crashing down. "Ja, of course. Danke for the opportunity, Herr Beilschmidt," she replied, voice more confident than she thought possible.

* * *

Glancing down to examine his nails, Gilbert sniffed lightly, attention span already wandering from the girl in front of the two Germans. She seemed cookie cutter to him, no different from the other five ladies waiting to see if they could get the most coveted job in Germany. After all, who wouldn't want to be some part of the Reich? There was glory and honour that came with every job the Fuhrer demanded. It was just a matter of deciding who was worthy of taking it.

However, as he glanced back up to study her as she effortlessly answered his brothers questions, he thought perhaps he was wrong. There was something in her eyes that suggested she was entirely different from any woman he had met. Sure, he had met a lot of interesting women. But she... she was almost intriguing. As if she were a cobra, disguised as an innocent animal. However, he was sure he was over reacting... though he almost had the desire to hire her, simply to see if he was right. Push her limits.

Not many people knew about the Prussian's liking to mind games. How many women had he spent days, even weeks, attempting to get into their mind? He had lost count. Of course, he never fell for them. Personally, he was above relationships. They were a waste of time. But psychologically breaking someone... That was an investment he could deal with.

* * *

The interview had gone well, she assumed. The questions had been simple – where were you born, how long have you lived there, how many people you have been a secretary for... They were all normal. Normal enough to set her paranoia aside for the moment. In fact, she almost felt surprisingly comfortable sitting at the typewriter Ludwig had led her to. In a way, it sickened her; as if she were living a dream, or nightmare, where she had become one of them. But she couldn't help the rising feeling of disgust in her; it was too surreal.

But she pushed all thought from her mind as her fingers began to type furiously, listening to every word that the blonde was giving her. It seemed to be a simple letter that he was sending to a man named Himmler. "... Concerning this coming Saturday, I ask you have a new sector created, along with sharpening up the skills of-"

Ludwig kept talking but, however, she stopped typing. Her hands were hovering over the keys, shaking slightly. It seemed as if her brain had completely frozen, the absurdity of it all making her immobilized. For a moment, neither of the men seemed to notice the lack of loud clicks that echoed against the walls of the room. When they both did, however, she felt a chill run down her spine at their sudden silence. No one moved for a moment and she didn't dare to take a breath. Gilbert moved first, taking a few steps over to her, his boots loud against the floor. She could feel his presence looming over her before he laid a hand on her shoulder, leaning over to read what she had written.

Swallowing thickly, she resisted the urge to shake under his touch, instead, keeping her expression clear of any fear that might have slipped through. As he turned his head, so his lips were near her ear, she let her gaze flicker to the side, a chill running down her body. "Shall we try that again, Fraulein?" He questioned, voice barely above a whisper. He was close enough that she could feel his breath tickling the side of her face.

Taking a deep breath, she nodded vigorously, not trusting her voice to do her justice. Gilbert's smirk slowly spread into a grin and he pulled away, squeezing her shoulder in what she assumed was meant to be a supportive way. The action, however, only made her flinch.

* * *

As Gilbert watched the blonde leave, he smirked to himself. He had allowed himself the small indulgence of messing with her mind – a preview, so to say. A try before you buy. She had reacted well, he thought. Even with close proximity, she kept her cool. It urged the Prussian on, in a way. He wanted to know what would break her. Really get under that pale skin of hers...

With a small chuckle, he wandered over to the small table his brother had in his office, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. Taking a sip, he let it burn his throat as he turned to look curiously at the younger male sitting at his desk. "I'm glad you decided to hire her," he said absently, gently swirling the liquid around the small glass. "She seems competent."

Ludwig barely acknowledged that he was being spoken to and simply nodded, making a small noise of approval as he continued to work. Rolling his eyes, Gilbert downed the rest of his drink, deciding he was not in the mood to bother his brother any longer. Besides, he had a new project to attend to. One by the name of Giselle Hans.


	5. Crescendo

**Cresendo - a gradual increase; a gradual increase in volume of a musical passage.**

The two weeks since she started passed quickly for Natalya. After the interview passed and she received the alert that she had been accepted, she moved into the apartment her brother and his men had rented for her. It wasn't decorated inside, only holding the necessities. After all, decorations showed weakness, did they not? For the first few days, she was welcomed by many of the other women and men working around her. But soon after, they began to realize she was not one for conversation. Her one-word answers and icy attitude suggested only business, not socializing.

This morning was particularly cold, she noticed, as she carted her briefcase across the street, attempting to keep her scarf from flying away at the same time. Her hair was pulled up in a bun, only letting a few strands of hair frame her face. As for clothes, she wore a simple blouse and high waisted skirt, not wanting to attract attention to herself. Stepping through the office doors, she nodded towards the girl who always said hello and continued on her way.

The brass strip on the door that read 'Beilschmidt' looked just the same as always. Taking a small breath, she unwrapped her scarf, draping it on the coat hanger before adding her coat as well and knocking on the door. She counted ten seconds before she received no reply. Glancing around the hallway around her, she didn't hesitate before she slipped inside, closing the door silently behind her.

The room was completely dark, the lights not even turned on yet. Ignoring the slightly strange situation, she turned them on herself, keeping them on a low setting just in case. She hadn't had any time to gather information since she arrived, busy with keeping up her charade and the daily duties she was supposed to finish. Her brother was beginning to get anxious, obviously displeased with her lack of response to the messages he sent through his undercover soldiers. As the sound of footsteps outside the door came into her line of hearing, she began to go about her usual duties, in fear that it might be one of the brothers.

When they passed, she slowly set down the stack of paper before hurrying to the German's desk. It was Ludwig's – neat and perfectly organized. Opening the first drawer, she searched for anything that might be of use to her brother. There were a few documents here and there, pictures paper-clipped to the top right corner. None of it made sense, but she studied them anyway, never so happy to have a photographic memory. Later she would sketch them out and hand them off to Nikolai.

Closing the drawer, she glanced up to the door, pausing to make sure no one was nearby before continuing. This time, she rooted through the few papers on his desk, skimming over letters concerning concentration camps and projects that needed signing. It chilled her to the bone as she scanned a particular paper. It was all numbers... just figures of how many people had died. No, how many people had been murdered. Setting it down, she prayed she would not become one of those numbers.

The sudden noise outside of the room caused her to jump lightly and she set the paper down, her heartbeat exploding in a flurry of beats as she rushed as quietly as she could over to her own desk, sliding into the chair. Sitting down, she realized with a wave of dread that the light was still dim. The door began to open before she could turn it on fully and she turned, beginning to load the typewriter with paper to seem busy.

She could feel the person hovering in the doorway before they flipped the light on completely. Turning slowly, she blinked, a bit surprised. It wasn't Ludwig who was standing in the doorway, it was Gilbert. His expression was curious and, to her horror, slightly amused.  
"A bit dim for working, don't you think?" The tone of his voice held so much more than the words he spoke. It was almost as if he were suggesting he knew what she had been doing. Swallowing thickly, she stood up, smoothing down her skirt with calm hands. She knew if she hadn't been trained well, they would be shaking.

"I have a migraine," she replied easily, the lie slipping from her lips without a second thought. Her expression read that she was perfectly comfortable, yet in the back of her mind, her senses were screaming to leave. His god-forsaken crimson eyes were hard to stare into without feeling a small bit of fear.

"Ah," he mused, arms crossing over his chest in an almost mocking way. "Well, perhaps you should go home, Fraulein. I know my brother won't be pleased to work in the dark all day." After a few moments of smirking at her, he shed his coat, hanging it on the coat hanger and walked over to his brother desk, gaze slowly examining everything.

Watching him closely, Natalya bit the inside of her cheek, chewing in a slightly nervous manner. He was different from any other soldier she had lied to. He seemed to be one step ahead, no matter what the situation was. Like a predator, searching for its prey.  
"Herr Beilschmidt will not have to work in the dark. I will simply ignore it," she replied, tone slightly cold now. If he didn't stop interrogating her, she might be tempted to do something stupid. After all, the knife strapped to her thigh was calling for a little attention... It had been so long since she had held it in her hand.

But she knew she could never do something so selfish. Not only selfish, but suicidal. She wouldn't escape Germany without being shot. Besides, he would get his punishment, when the Soviets advanced...

Holding up his hands, in a pose that suggested he had given up, he grinned at her, expression utterly obnoxious. "Alright, no need to get offended..." He leant against the desk, obviously done with his little inspection of the desk. Instead, he seemed to have settled for studying her, crimson eyes fixed unblinkingly on her face.

Clearing her throat, she nodded briskly, some of her hair falling from her bun, tickling the side of her face. For some reason she felt self-conscious with him looking so intently at her. "If that is all, Herr Beilschmidt, I would like to go and deliver some messages." Anything to get her out of this office and away from him...

"Ja, feel free," he replied, lips curving into a smirk. "Ah, but first, I have a question. Mind accompanying me to a social dinner tonight? Der Fuhrer himself will be there." He was quiet for a moment before he paused, taking a few steps closer to her. "Don't worry, I'm not asking you on a date. In fact, I'm not even asking you. It's an order. You know, social status rises a bit when you have a nice little lady on your arm," he continued, smirking as he brushed some hair from her face.

Eyes widening the slightest bit, her jaw clenched and she resisted the urge to push his hand away and spit in his face. She had been expecting at least something like this. Men were men, no matter who they were. And they treated women with the littlest respect when all the charades were dropped. No matter how many times he called her fraulein and held the door open for her, it was all for one thing.

But, instead of whipping out her knife and carving that arrogant smirk off his face, she blinked a few times and nodded. "Of course." That was all she said before she turned around, walking briskly out of the office. When she rounded the corner, she stopped, leaning against the wall with a shaky exhale. It felt as if she had run a marathon, with the amount of adrenaline and fatigue she felt. Something about the albino drained her, emotionally and physically... It was like he could see into her mind.


	6. Calando

**Calando: falling away, or lowering; i.e., getting slower and quieter; ritardando along with diminuendo**

Finally, after what seemed like days, Natalya's lunch break arrived. Though, as she headed down the stairs into the main foyer of the office, she was not on her way to find something to eat. She was on a mission that was much more important. The crowd of people walking along the street was easy to get swept up in. But a certain group of people stood out among everyone else. Their red arm bands still managed to send a wave of fear through her every moment her eyes caught sight of them. She could feel their eyes watching, probing… they were searching every person that passed, not interested in humanity. Only insanity.

Breathing a sigh of relief as she rounded the corner into an alleyway, she passed Nikolai with a simple connection of their gazes. He was a part of the operation being run by the Soviets; one of her cousins. He was dressed as an SS officer, expression so convincing that she assumed no one would dream of questioning him. The alleyway looked the same as the last time she had been here; like it was straight out of her nightmares. What if her brother wasn't waiting for her at the end of the long expanse of the cement walkway? What if she were slowly walking to her death? But as soon as she grew close enough to see the blonde hair upon the Russian's head, she knew she was safe.

"What do you have?" He snapped, voice hushed, though they both knew they were completely alone. Obviously, his patience had died with her lack of success. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a few folded documents, that she had sketched out from memory.

"These contain dates, names and official orders I thought you might find interesting," she informed him, feeling her charade falling as she studied his face. Although she had to crane her neck slightly to see him, she enjoyed the view. He comforted her, with his strong expression. He would always protect her, always love her, always be there for her…

As he studied them in silence, she watched his face anxiously, feeling like she was a child again, hoping for praise from her older sibling. However, he silently folded the papers once more and slid them into his jacket, expression not what she had hoped.

"This… This is all you get me after weeks in Germany? Not only in Germany but in the middle of the Reich?" He demanded, tone so quiet it was worse than if he had been yelling.

"It's had been difficult, braht… I-I have been adjusting and…" She was cut off by a hand over her mouth, his gloved fingers digging into her jaw. She felt her eyes sting, begging her to let them release the tears that were threatening to escape. Instead, she stared straight at him, waiting for whatever he had to say.

"You will not give me excuses. You will give me what I want. Do you understand, Natalya? I chose you to do this, not because you are my syestra, but because you promised me you would not fail."

Taking a small breath, she nodded the best she could, her own fists clenching at her sides. Seeming pleased with her agreement, he let go, eyes still staring straight into her own. "Good… Very good," he said quietly, his gaze breaking for a moment as he closed his eyes, letting out a small exhale.

As much as she hated to admit it, she knew her brother was losing his sanity. He was slipping away from her and there was nothing she could do. He would never let her help him, let alone get near to him. For a moment, she wanted to tell him about the social dinner. For a moment, she wanted to confess how nervous she was. But she knew she could never tell him. Instead, she bowed her head as she gave him a quiet departure and turned on her heel before he could protest. The sound of her heels clicking against the pavement echoed as she left, leaving Ivan standing in the dimly lit alley, his expression impossible to read.

When Natalya arrived back to work, she made sure that she would be busy all day. Her mental sanity couldn't handle another hit today. She was strong, yes. But she was also still a little girl. She had never had a chance to experience a childhood. Her innocence had been ripped from her hands before she knew how to walk. In her family, she had been born into this life of deception and ill intent. Sometimes she wished she had been born into a normal family. A different family. But then she would remember her sweet brother…That was the only thing that made her life bearable. Finally and thankfully, the end of the day came.

Before either of the Beilschmidt men could converse with her, she threw on her jacket and rushed into the rainy, wet streets of Berlin. The cab she caught took her to her small apartment quickly. She was too tired to even notice the man's prying eyes as she paid him. In a matter of minutes, she had unlocked her door and shed her coat, shaking the rain from her hair. It seemed to only have one weather pattern lately in the German city – rain. Somehow, she cursed it. It seemed even the natural weather was out to make her depressed. Sighing, she ran a hand over her face, all the day's strains exhaled with a small breath.

Glancing at the clock, she realized that she only had a limited amount of time to ready herself for the unwanted dinner. The lighting has become different… It was the only explanation as to why she seemed so pale. And since when had she become this thin? As she undressed, she realized she was on the last hole in her belt. Letting her hair fall from the bun it had been captured in, she studied herself in the mirror, her eyes narrowing with each inspection. She looked different. Less like herself with each day. Nazi Germany was changing her… Morphing her into a monster. Yet, she felt no different on the inside. Was this how everyone saw her? A cold, heartless secretary?

As she stepped into the shower, she couldn't help but to scoff. No wonder Gilbert had asked her to join him this evening for a social dinner. She suited him now. As a prize on his arm. A pawn in the grand scheme of the Reich. Forcing the thoughts from her mind, she allowed herself to relax as the water massaged away her worries. It was nice to simply relax for a few minutes... to not worry.

In fact, the whole time she spent getting ready was bliss. She focused on the simple, mundane tasks with a bit too much enjoyment. It was only when she was completely dressed, staring at her reflection in the hall mirror did her thoughts fall back into their usual pattern. A glance at the clock told her it was two minutes before Herr Beilschmidt was to arrive. Why was she nervous? He was no simpler than a fly, that she could swat away with a flick of her wrist.

And yet, when the telltale sound of the car door slamming pulled her from her thoughts, she still jumped. Why did her heart catch in her throat? Because she was weak. That was what she told herself anyway, as she pulled herself together. Her face became icy and her exterior was cold once more. The knock on the door changed nothing.

As she opened the door, she wasn't sure what she had been expecting. Gilbert himself to be standing there? Nonetheless, she was still surprised to see a young member of the Nazi party – a hilter jugden. The young blond lifted his hand in a heil before he nodded at her, stepping aside obediently to wait for her to exit.

"You've come to collect me then?" She questioned under her breath, feeling sick to her stomach. How could they recruit young men like himself? Their lives were just beginning and little did they know, would be ending sooner than they got their armbands. Though, instead of scowling at him, she gave her best 'perfect woman' smile and stepped outside of her apartment, locking the door behind her. She followed behind the young soldier, her heels clicking against the floor, in time with his rhythmic marching.  
As they stepped out into the rain, she was grateful for at least one thing – it had stopped raining as hard. Now, it was only a simple spattering of droplets. Nothing compared to the downpour she had been greeted with earlier in the day. Without missing a beat, the soldier drew an umbrella out, holding it above her head as they descended the steps. As she nodded in thanks to him, she took another deep breath, before he gaze fell on the car.

Gilbert was standing, with the door open, that arrogant smirk placed on his lips. Suddenly, she regretted the fact that she had put a little effort into looking nice this evening. She was wearing a simple black dress, with a brown shrug and a pearl necklace – but even that seemed like she was giving the German before her too much satisfaction. It made her sick. Not returning his smile, she simply nodded and took his outstretched hand, allowing him to help her into the military car.

Adjusting in her seat, she sent a silent prayer up to whatever God was listening that she would survive tonight. Gilbert slid in beside her, slamming the car door shut, silencing the rain to a faint beat against the roof above them. "You look nice, Fraulein," he commented, though his tone was far from flattering. It was almost patronizing. Prying. A quick glance over to meet his gaze confirmed her suspicions – his eyes were watching her closely, like a predator. Not a charming gentleman.

"Danke," she replied, though her voice came out as a faint whisper, not the strong and confident voice she had pictured. Turning her head, she swallowed thickly, masking it by clearing her throat. If this was how Herr Beilschmidt was going to be the whole night, she doubted she would survive.


End file.
